


"Dear Mother,"

by stealingpotatoes



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Gen, Letter, dude idk either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:47:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24408289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stealingpotatoes/pseuds/stealingpotatoes
Summary: Arno writes a letter to his mother that abandoned him so many years ago.(For theac-promptsprompt"dear mum")
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13
Collections: Assassin's Creed Tumblr Discord Prompts





	"Dear Mother,"

**Author's Note:**

> Saw this prompt and thought "now that's perfect for some Arno angst", and so here we are (despite my writing skill lol).

Dear Mother,

I’m tired, but I can’t sleep. Every time I try, I see her bloodied face, the life leaving her eyes. So I’m awake in the dead of night, writing this letter. It won’t help me, or you, or anyone. You’ll never read it. I barely even know who you are now or if you’re even alive, let alone where you are. But I’m writing nonetheless.

~~ I’ll probably burn this letter as soon as I’m done writing. This is stupid. I’m stupid. What am I doing? ~~

Today marks three weeks since Élise died. I suppose you wouldn’t know who Élise  ~~ is ~~ was; all you really need to know is that I loved her. I loved her more than anyone or anything in the world. I still do. She was the last person I cared about, and I lost her. Just like everyone else. Every person who I would have even come close to calling family is dead now. All killed in front of me. I couldn’t stop it. I was too slow, too late, every single time. 

Every person but you, that is. You left me. You made a deliberate choice to go. I didn’t watch you die, I watched you walk away. 

I was barely four years old the last time I saw you. If I had known you weren’t going to be coming back after that, I would have hugged you tighter, or- I don’t know, tried to stop you. But I didn’t know. You didn’t tell me that it was the last time, so I only gave you a hug and waved at you as you walked away from me, excited for all the stories you would tell me when you returned. 

Looking back, I should have noticed that something was off. You didn’t often travel without Father and me. And certainly not with that much luggage. I should have noticed how Father looked at you that day, when he thought I couldn’t see him. It was somewhere between anger and sadness, I think. Perhaps I imagined that later on. But I knew things weren’t going well between you and father. I heard you two yelling at night, sometimes. That’s some part of why you left, isn’t it? Father always said it was because of him. Did father even know that you were leaving then? Or did you write to him after? I don’t know if he would have tried to stop you if he did know. Maybe he wanted you to leave. He was the one to tell me that you were gone, you know. Gone for good. It was a week or so after you’d left (long enough for a letter to arrive). He sat me down and tried to explain something that a young boy should never have to hear. I can’t quite remember what he said, but everything became a haze once he said it. You’d left me. But Father told me because you weren’t able to do it yourself. If you could leave me, your own son, why couldn’t you at least say goodbye properly? You owed me that much. You still owe me an explanation.

Father and I travelled a lot after that. We went to some amazing places for “business” (which I now know was assassin business, yet I don’t quite know what). But every time we came home, some naive part of me expected you to be waiting for us. Waiting to tell us that your trip was finally over, and that you were back, and you hadn’t meant to be gone so long. But you were never there. Nevertheless, I kept hoping. 

And then we stopped coming home. Father was killed (I wonder if you even know about that), and I went to live with the De La Serres. I liked it there, I really did. But that same stupid part of me expected that one day you would walk in and ask that I would come home with you. I’d dream about it. Maybe you would join the house after that, and I would have a real family. I wouldn’t just be that pathetic little orphan boy that M. De La Serre did the great kindness of taking as his ward. 

When I asked Father, he always said that he’d tell me exactly why you left once I was older. He said I wouldn’t understand now. But of course, he didn’t live long enough to see me older. You’re the last and only person who knows why. 

So why? Why did you leave me? 

I’ve been asking myself that since the moment Father said that you weren’t coming back. What made you leave your son? Did you leave because of me? Father always said it was all his fault, that you still loved me very much. But even if that’s true, why wasn’t I a reason enough for you to stay? I was your son. You and father were my whole world back then; why wasn’t I yours?

I suppose I’ve never been a good enough reason for anyone.  Why would it be any different with you? I wasn’t a good enough reason for Father to give up being an assassin, and I wasn’t a good enough reason for Élise to give up her quest for revenge, or even to care about herself a little. I’ve never been enough for anyone, have I? If I was, perhaps I wouldn’t be so completely alone right now. 

~~ Perhaps you leaving was for the best. Going off all my other experiences, I would have watched you die anyway. Maybe you knew that. Maybe you left because you knew what happened to those around me.  ~~

But after everything, I still want you to come home. I still miss you. I still love you, Mother. If you are out there, I need you now more than ever. Please come back. 

I don’t want to be alone. 

Your son,

Arno Dorian

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Arno has some ✨serious issues✨ and honestly just needs some therapy. Get this man some therapy please.  
> Anyways thank you very much for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful rest-of-your-day!!


End file.
